


The One Who Got Away

by furiosity



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2537147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furiosity/pseuds/furiosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot of Kisumi's sex stories start with "So I was kind of drunk and he was pretty hot." This one doesn't end the way they usually do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Who Got Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chamberium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamberium/gifts).



> I hope that this fits with what you had in mind with your SouKisu request! Thank you to Marly for checking this over. Since this story is set in the future, there is a reference to a world event that hasn't happened (yet).

_November._

Kisumi cut himself shaving that morning. A bit badly.

Okay, a lot badly. He edged to unlock the bathroom door so Hayato could come in to pee, and sliced across the edge of his jaw. The blades took but a sliver, but it bled like a faucet and took its time scabbing over. It doesn't hurt until Kisumi forgets it's there and scratches it listening to his drunk boss's story about the time he bathed in a tank full of live eels.

"Ah, Shigino-kun, you're bleeding!" Kisumi's deskmate exclaims. The two of them share a desk on account of being juniors on the sales team. He's well and truly sloshed already: half of tomorrow morning, Kisumi will be listening to him snore while pretending to be on the phone.

"I'll go clean up," Kisumi says. He climbs out of the seat and makes his way towards the bathrooms at the far end of a narrow, white-walled corridor. It's just past eleven at night, and Iwatobi's favorite izakaya has a full house as always. He's got his hand up to cover his jaw lest someone else draw attention to it. People make fun of him for having an innocent baby face as it is. The last thing he needs is people laughing at him for not knowing how to shave.

 _I wish I could get out of this town,_ Kisumi thinks as he washes the blood off. He doesn't mean it -- not yet. He promised Hayato he would live at home until Hayato graduates from high school, and there's still six months until then. In two months, he's going to make senior associate and become eligible to apply for a transfer. With his track record and recommendations, he could go anywhere. The company's got branches all over the place, and skilled, attractive senior sales guys are always in demand. 

Kisumi and his parents are thinking that somewhere close to Hayato's new school will be nice. If Hayato doesn't get lucky in the dorm lottery one year, he can stay with Kisumi. That way he won't need to work part-time through university like Kisumi did. That was no fun.

He smooths the backs of his fingers down his jaw, and they come away clean. Just in case, he decides to grab some toilet paper to blot at it if he needs to -- he doesn't want to get his handkerchief bloody.

He opens the door to the single stall and finds Yamazaki Sousuke seated on the throne, though not to use as intended. Sousuke's jeans are down but only his dick is out. In his right hand.

Kisumi blinks. He and Sousuke run into each other sometimes; in a town as small as Iwatobi it'd be odd if they didn't. They're friendly, sure, but not enough for him to have any idea why Sousuke would be jerking off in a place like this. As far as he knows, Sousuke isn't some kind of social deviant. He makes an honest living working at his father's rice wine brewery. While no Gekkeikan, they've been in business for a good three generations, and Sousuke is next in line to inherit it. Yet here he sits in an unlocked public toilet stall with his hand on his junk.

Which Kisumi can't stop staring at. At the back of his mind, he's wondering if this is what all those snake analogies are all about -- he stands transfixed, unable to look away from Sousuke's cock. At the front of his mind, there's a balls-deep, urgent need to put his mouth on that cock and make it wetter. Make it pulse and quiver. Make Sousuke grab his head with both hands and hold him down -- not forceful; masterful and sure, but gentle. His mouth starts to water.

He'll remember every detail of these few seconds the same way he remembers being thirteen, staring at the curve of Takenoshita Subaru's naked ass and feeling his fingers tingle with the phantom touch of smooth tan skin. _Boy_ skin. He remembers realizing he was _different_. 

Same as now. Sousuke's blue workshirt hiked up just enough to show a sparse trail of hair leading away from the thick thatch at his pubic bone. Sousuke's cock, massive and hard, a rich rosy brown color except for the pink at the rim. Sousuke's fingers curled at the base, surprised into stillness. Most of all, the pull of Sousuke's eyes when Kisumi looks back up to his face. He had a crush on Sousuke once, long ago, and those eyes were the reason.

One day, someone will ask _so when did you know you were gay?_ and this will be one of the times he'll think of, complete with the faint scent of disinfectant and the many muffled conversations outside the bathroom. Even if he turns around right now, apologizes for interrupting, and rejoins his coworkers, he will forever carry these images.

But he's _not_ going to leave now.

Kisumi glances back at the row of urinals. Still no one. He steps into the stall and pulls the door shut behind him. Sousuke's eyes widen.

"You... you want some help with that?" Kisumi asks, nodding at Sousuke's crotch. He fumbles at the latch behind his back with awkward fingers. He can't see what he's doing but neither can Sousuke, and Kisumi hopes that his most casual smile doesn't look deranged as he struggles to latch the door shut. _Say yes. Say yes. Say yes._

Sousuke's eyes flicker with recognition. _There: he's figured out how to categorize this_ , Kisumi thinks. _Unless he's done it before, in which case he's figured out how to categorize_ me--

"Depends on what you have in mind," Sousuke says. Playing it cool, of course -- Yamazaki Sousuke could never be seen getting obviously excited over anything. It goes against the Handsome and Brooding rulebook.

Undaunted, Kisumi grins. "You want a play-by-play in advance or is it okay if I just show you?"

"Show me, then," Sousuke mutters, blushing prettily, and that's when Kisumi knows this won't be the last time.

There he was moments ago, not wanting to get his handkerchief dirty. Now he's kneeling on an izakaya's bathroom floor in his only clean work suit and he doesn't care. He's always been different -- memorizing the shapes boys' calves made under flimsy track pants, staring at boys' shoulders bare and sweaty, stealing dangerously long looks at boys' crotches in the showers. A little grime on his knees is nothing to worry about.

"Why were you doing this here, anyway?" he asks, loosening his tie with one hand. "Does it turn you on, being surprised in the middle of it?"

"I'm not a pervert," Sousuke says, his face serious. "A cousin's staying at my place so I haven't been able to do it at home. I just forgot to lock the stall door like an idiot."

Kisumi presses the pad of his thumb against the thick dark vein running along the underside of Sousuke's cock. "I'm glad you did." He leans in closer and inhales -- the smell of a man who hasn't had a bath since last night and worked all day, washing rice or pressing moromi or whatever rice wine brewers do. Everyone has their own scent, and Kisumi likes the way Sousuke smells.

He pries Sousuke's hand away from the base. "Let me," he says, and Sousuke obeys him, his face eager and curious, like it's the first time someone's touching him down there. _Is it? Or am I the first man?_

Kisumi pulls Sousuke's foreskin up over the head so just the slit shows and kisses it with wetted lips. It's hot and slick with a bitter tang, and Sousuke's hips shift forward as he makes a tiny noise uncharacteristic of somebody his size. Kisumi works the foreskin gently, but he can tell it's a bad time to tease. _He must've been close when I interrupted. How rude of me._

He starts with the head, licking it slow, steady, opening his mouth wider to fit over the whole thing, sliding lower, filling his mouth with it, deeper. He gets half of it down before he has to pull back. If Sousuke were soft at first, he could've fit the whole thing in his mouth. Maybe. Kisumi curls his tongue over the head and grips the base with his hand. Sousuke's hand moves over his, fingers urging him more tightly against Sousuke's cock. Kisumi knows what that means, and he doesn't make Sousuke wait any longer. The sounds Sousuke makes as Kisumi flattens his tongue and sucks him down are so loud Kisumi wonders whether he doesn't _care_ if someone walks in and overhears. He angles his mouth to let Sousuke in deeper, and there it is -- Sousuke's hand in his hair, thumb flat against Kisumi's cheek. As gentle as Kisumi imagined. 

"Don't stop," Sousuke moans, but it's not like Kisumi _can_ stop -- Sousuke's pulsing messy and bitter into his mouth. It's all Kisumi can do to keep it from spilling out all over Sousuke's jeans.

"Do you do this kind of thing often?" Sousuke asks after regaining his wits.

Kisumi rises, wiping his mouth with a bit of toilet paper. "Suck your dick in a public bathroom? This was my first time."

"Not _mine_." Sousuke blushes, and it's so cute Kisumi's in _so_ much trouble. His crush is back: Kisumi never did know how to resist a pair of eyes as gorgeous as Sousuke's. Or a pout as pretty. Or a dick as fine.

~

Sucking Sousuke's dick is nothing compared to riding it, Kisumi finds out when Sousuke calls him a week later.

Sousuke lives in a little house he rents from a friend of his dad's. His father remarried last year, and Sousuke says he wanted to give the newlyweds some privacy. He meets Kisumi at the door and, to his credit, doesn't glance furtively from side to side before letting him in. Not worried about neighbors thinking the Yamazaki scion entertains young men during strange hours? That's either over-confident or too optimistic. It's difficult to cough in Iwatobi without someone spreading the rumor that you're dying of consumption.

"No kissing," Sousuke says before Kisumi's shoes are even off. "Not on the lips, I mean."

Kisumi raises his eyebrows. "No?"

"No."

Kisumi approaches him, hands going right for Sousuke's belt. "Okay to kiss here?"

Sousuke swallows thickly. "Also you don't sleep here."

"Of course I won't," Kisumi mutters, unbuttoning Sousuke's fly. "My family would worry if i didn't come home."

"We aren't dating," Sousuke says, his voice strangled on account of Kisumi stroking his cock with a tight fist.

"Sure," Kisumi breathes. "I don't have time to be taking you to the fucking amusement park anyway." He wants this cock inside himself _now_ , so he'll promise Sousuke the moon on a plate if he'll just be quiet and fuck Kisumi. Few people get to see this side of Kisumi, and Sousuke is rattled enough to surrender and do as he's told.

Kisumi makes Sousuke finger-fuck him first, and most guys get squirmy about their first time, but not Sousuke. He watches Kisumi's face as he does it, like he wants to know how it feels. When lube is all but dripping all down his thighs, Kisumi mounts him -- he's so damn huge it takes two pushes -- and finds his pleasure. It's furious, loud, and over much too soon. Kisumi hasn't fucked anyone this hot in a long time, and it's obvious Sousuke has never fucked anyone at all.

After they're done and Kisumi's caught his breath, he giggles against Sousuke's ear. "No kissing on the lips? Really?"

Sousuke shifts to glower at him. "Really."

"Okay, Julia Roberts," Kisumi says, but Sousuke just looks blank. 

_Nobody appreciates classic cinema these days,_ Kisumi thinks. He doesn't need to ask if Sousuke's saving himself for anyone special. He saw the photo of Rin in Sousuke's wallet when Sousuke was looking for a condom.

~

"One day I'll win you over," Kisumi vows, and he's joking, of course he is joking, but maybe he's kinda serious. Maybe he doesn't like being the Other Guy. Rin's in Australia. Rin's _married_. "You can't forever pine for the one who got away."

"What do you mean?" Sousuke asks, buttoning his jeans.

"I mean I know why you don't want to kiss on the lips. Do you think you'll ever have a kiss from Rin? He's got a family now." Kisumi checks that his zipper is all the way up and reaches for his shirt.

"No, I'm asking what you mean by the one who got away. Is that a homosexual thing?"

"It's a people thing. We all have that one person, you know? We never stop wondering what could have been if we were still together."

"Like true love?"

Kisumi purses his lips, skeptical. "If your true love is the one person you'll never be with, that's just too depressing."

"Do you have a person like that?" Sousuke asks. "The one who got away, I mean."

Kisumi straightens his tie and tugs his suit jacket down his sides. "I hope I never do. Living with such a regret doesn't sound like fun."

"You should leave," Sousuke says. "My landlord's coming to renew my lease."

~

"Don't do that," Sousuke says when Kisumi tries licking his nipple for the first time.

"You don't like it?" Kisumi asks, surprised. Some guys just don't like their nipples played with, but Sousuke's gasp when Kisumi started sounded pretty delighted to him.

"It doesn't matter if I like it. I don't want you to do it, it's too romantic. Let's just fuck."

Kisumi gets up off him and starts looking for his pants. "If you want a tight place to put your cock into, buy a fleshlight," he says. "I'm a person."

"So you're mad because I don't want you licking my chest?"

"No, I'm mad because you're rude, and I'm leaving because I don't want to have sex with you any more."

It's not the first time Kisumi stalks off in a huff, and it won't be the last. Sousuke never apologizes, but he always tries to make it up to Kisumi somehow. He doesn't apologize because he doesn't believe honesty requires apologies. It's just how he was raised.

It's no wonder he's never really dated anyone. Most normal people wouldn't be able to handle their entire lives being Brutal Honesty Hour, but Kisumi's different. He's always found it easy to let even the nastiest insults roll right off his back. And it's not like Sousuke has a mean-spirited bone in his body: he's just too serious about certain things. Like not letting their relationship become romantic.

"What are you going to do once you succeed the family business?" Kisumi asks one day as they're getting dressed. They always talk while getting dressed after fucking. There's never any time for talking, before.

"I'll do more management work and less hands-on stuff, I guess," Sousuke says. "But that's not going to happen for a while. I'm not ready to get married."

Kisumi raises an eyebrow. "Married?"

"Obviously. It's a _family_ business. You need a family to run it."

"I can already imagine you trying to woo a girl," Kisumi says with a soft cackle. "Excuse me, miss, but do you like anal?" he drawls, deepening his voice to a close approximation of Sousuke's.

Sousuke glares at him. "It's not funny. And I'm not going to woo anyone. My father will choose a suitable partner with good business sense."

"You'll have to kiss her, you know."

"Shut up," Sousuke advises and throws a smelly sock at Kisumi's face.

~ 

"You're dating Yamazaki Sousuke-san, aren't you?" Hayato asks Kisumi one day as they do the dishes together.

"I wouldn't call it dating," Kisumi says. _Well, I would. Sousuke wouldn't._

"He's okay," Hayato continues as if Kisumi hadn't said anything. "But kind of scary-looking. If you have to date guys, I wish you'd date somebody nice, like Makoto-sensei."

Kisumi grins. "Makoto's all the way in Tokyo, and I don't think he would be interested," he says, handing Hayato a cast-iron pot to dry, and that finishes the conversation.

Kisumi's willing to bet someone like Makoto would be a perfect gentleman. He'd kiss him wide open and stop fucking him immediately if Kisumi came before he did, because someone like Makoto would know how uncomfortable it feels to have anything in his ass right after an orgasm. Someone like Makoto would bottom if asked, or even volunteer for it. Before Kisumi got involved with Sousuke, someone like Makoto would've been a perfect fit.

But he's already fallen for Sousuke's flavor of desire -- demanding and harsh and fast-paced. He loves it because sometimes Sousuke forgets himself when he's fucking Kisumi. He kisses Kisumi's shoulder blades and whispers of how hot he is for Kisumi, and how sexy Kisumi looks from the back. It's like the shadow of Sousuke's feelings for someone else vanishes, and it's like he loves Kisumi just a little. Just in those moments. So Kisumi's learned to endure the discomfort and will never tell Sousuke about it. It's not that bad, anyway.

~

For all that Sousuke says it's just mutually assured satisfaction, he sure calls Kisumi often.

Four months after their first time, Kisumi even gets a copy of Sousuke's house key. Sousuke says it's to let him come over whenever he wants, and if Sousuke happens to be around, they can fuck. Sousuke says he'll take the key back if Kisumi brings so much as a toothbrush to keep at his place. Sousuke says they aren't a couple and that's how he wants it. Sousuke says if Kisumi doesn't like it, then he should just stop coming over.

Sousuke says a lot of things, and he thinks he's good at lying, but Kisumi's a _salesman_. He knows a convinced customer when he sees one. 

If this were a business deal, he'd throw in a side bonus and suggest that there's a time limit, but he doesn't want to push. Two months remain until Hayato's graduation. If Sousuke doesn't change his tune by then, Kisumi will ask him if he wants to continue their relationship after the move to Matsuyama.

They won't see each other more than once every couple of months, but even that seems worth it to Kisumi. He's so far past a crush and so deep into love that sometimes he thinks of things that will never happen -- like the recent news from Australia, where same-sex marriage is now legal. Kisumi's company has branch offices in three Australian cities. But that's something he can only ever think about. If he ever were to so much as joke about something like this, Sousuke would at best ignore him and at worst tell him to get lost.

Sometimes Sousuke looks at him after they finish, and Kisumi is sure he's about to to say something that will change their lives forever. Sousuke always just bites his lip and turns away. The truth is, no matter his feelings, he'll always want to marry some nice woman his father chooses and live out the rest of his days in Iwatobi. Kisumi can't blame him: if he had a shot at an uncomplicated life, he'd take it too. Kisumi might end up living in Australia one day. He might even get married to someone tall and strong, with tranquil eyes that make his heart stop, but it won't be Sousuke. He knows. He _knows_. 

But hope is one hell of a drug, and too much hope makes you stupid.

One day before Kisumi has to put in for his work transfer if he wants to arrive in Matsuyama before Hayato does, he heads for Sousuke's place to ask him one question. He's rehearsed it so many times he could win an Oscar, if they gave those out for walk-on bit parts with a couple of lines.

Last week, Sousuke said he was out of dried squid. Knowing Sousuke, he'll moan about it until someone either brings him some or marches him down to the supermarket. Kisumi picks up beer and snacks at the convenience store near Sousuke's place. On his way out, he checks his phone, but his battery has run out, though it was at full charge in the morning. And Kisumi was waiting to see if the stubborn client he wined and dined yesterday has replied to his follow-up sales pitch, too. Stupid ancient phone. _I'll get a new one in Matsuyama_ , Kisumi thinks. New job, new digs, new friends, new expense account. Out with the old. His family and Sousuke are all he wants to keep.

He lets himself into Sousuke's house and heads straight for the kitchen to stick the beers into the fridge. Sousuke towers in front of the kitchen table with a strange look on his face -- a mix of surprise and confusion. Weird. It's not the first time Kisumi's walked in unannounced. And why does he look like he's trying to shield the table from view?

Kisumi smiles at him. "Hey, you. Before you start tearing my clothes off, I have to talk to you about something."

"Yo, Kisumi," says a voice Kisumi can't place right away, but then Rin pokes his head out from behind Sousuke's back.

"Rin!" Kisumi exclaims, beaming. "You look so good! I had no idea you were going to be in town."

And then he realizes that he had no idea because Sousuke didn't tell him.

Because Sousuke didn't want him to know.

His smile fading, he places the grocery bag on the table. "I'll just leave these. We should have a drink later if you have time, Rin." He starts to turn away.

"No, don't leave on my account," Rin says, rising. "I didn't know about you two -- _someone_ never tells me anything. We'll catch up later -- I'm here for a week." The phone in his hand beeps three times in rapid succession. "That'll be my sister commanding me to come home. See you later, Sousuke. Kisumi."

"Rin--!" Sousuke says, and he sounds so anguished that Kisumi's guts twist into an ugly knot.

After the door shuts behind Rin, Sousuke and Kisumi look at each other in silence. Kisumi is scared because he has no idea what's going to happen next. Sousuke's eyes glitter with menace, as though he's on the edge of violence. Kisumi's no slouch in a fight, if he must, but Sousuke's in a whole other weight class.

"You had no right to embarrass me like that," Sousuke says finally.

The cold, quiet fury in his voice is so powerful Kisumi's spine quivers. 

"I embarrassed you?" he whispers, but he can hardly hear himself. "Is that how it is?"

A void sits in his chest where all that hope used to be. All those tiny drops of it, built up little by little over the past six months -- gone. He wishes Sousuke chose to punch him instead. Hard enough to split his lip and knock him out so he can disappear.

He couldn't possibly speak again; his throat's a solid lump, and his thoughts are too far to reach. He's got it all wrong: he's not welcome here, and he never has been. He's an embarrassing, obscene secret. The key in his pocket was never a sign of Sousuke's trust. It is a convenient means to keeping him hidden.

Dazed, Kisumi reaches into his pocket and lifts out the key. It's cool against his fingertips as he presses it down on the table, right next to the plastic convenience store bag. Without looking at Sousuke, he retraces his steps to the front door and sits down to put his shoes back on.

He can't help but glance back once before he opens the door. Sousuke hasn't moved. He looks like a man keeping a wary eye on a mangy stray dog who, mistaking a dropped food scrap for an act of kindness, followed the wrong person home. There is no need to look directly at such a creature; it is no threat, after all. But best to be sure it leaves before it piddles on the carpet.

Kisumi starts running as soon as he's back out on the street. He'll get a blister running in these dress shoes, but he's barely holding it together. He needs to get somewhere safe and warm before he breaks. He hears someone shout "Wait!" behind him, but he's sure it's his mind trying to trick him into turning around, heartened by one final shred of hope -- to find no one. Kisumi's not falling for it. He skipped the gym to come here earlier, so this is great, it's perfect -- a chance to work out. Running on a treadmill is no fun, anyway.

When he gets home, he plugs his phone in. Focusing on practical, mundane things is good. There's an e-mail from yesterday's client thanking him for the lovely evening. They'll be sending the counter-signed sales contract first thing tomorrow morning. And there's a text from Sousuke, timestamped two hours ago, telling him not to come over because he's busy tonight.

Kisumi erases Sousuke's message, and the handful of others he's received from him over the months since that night at the izakaya. He keeps the contact information, though. It's not like Sousuke will ever call him, but if he ever dials Kisumi by mistake, Kisumi will at least know not to answer. A plan to protect himself: that feels good and solid. Something Kisumi can depend on.

He takes a quick shower, humming off-key all the while to keep his mind full of noise, then joins his family downstairs for dinner. He's safe here, and the kitchen smells like his mom's cherry turnovers. Everything else starts to resemble a bad dream, and Kisumi hopes he can hold on to that feeling.

"What's wrong?" Hayato asks him. "You look like you went to a haunted house by yourself."

"Yeah," their mom chimes in. "There's a nasty virus going around, and you're always out without a hat. It's only March, you know."

"Not wearing a hat doesn't cause you to catch viruses," Dad puts in. "Only direct contact with a virus-infested surface can do that."

Mom makes a face. "Not wearing a hat when it's cold lowers your body temperature and slows down your immune system. So if you swallow a virus, you'll be likelier to become sick."

"I'm fine, honestly," Kisumi says, smiling. "I'm just nervous, since I'm putting in for my transfer tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right, it's the cutoff!" Mom exclaims. "Do you think Kunizuka-san will be angry?"

"No, I told him about my plans a couple of weeks ago," Kisumi says. "Better not to burn any bridges, right?"

"A wise decision," Dad says.

"Besides, after he found out I just want to look after my cute little brother, he started writing the recommendation himself." Kisumi ruffles Hayato's hair.

Hayato blushes. "Don't do that at my graduation, okay?"

"I promise," Kisumi says.

"You _are_ going to come, right? You won't just skip it and wait for me in Matsuyama?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Kisumi says. "I've already reserved my night bus ticket."

It's the first night the whole family's been home together in weeks. They watch variety TV while sharing fancy caramel popcorn Dad brought from work. Kisumi uses the transfer nerves excuse to turn in early and retreats to his room, where he hides inside two blankets. Last night, he fell asleep practicing what he would say to Sousuke. It feels like something that happened to somebody else many years ago.

"Out... with the old," he whispers into his cupped hands, and then he clamps them over his mouth.

~~~

_November (again)._

"Good night!" Kisumi calls as he exits the empty office. It's pure habit: the last time he left while someone still remained was in July. He's decided he wants to run this branch one day, and for that he needs to work more than everyone else. Even with that, It'll take two years just to make sales manager.

Outside, he turns his steps towards the station, then remembers that he can't go home tonight. Hayato's borrowing Kisumi's apartment. He wanted to surprise his girlfriend with a home-cooked dinner and a night of playing video games on Kisumi's big-screen TV. That was what Hayato _said_ they were going to do. Kisumi is quite sure his king-size bed is going to get a lot more use than his television, though.

Kisumi glances at the clock in the center of the square: ten-thirty. Dinner time is long over, which means it's time for 'video games', so he decides against calling Hayato to see if he needs anything. He tries to remember which hotel he booked this time -- the New Grand or the Washington. In the end, he has to find a bench and look up the confirmation in his email, huddling deeper into his coat against the intensifying wind.

In the top left corner of the screen, a missed call notification. Frowning, Kisumi pulls it up -- he doesn't remember his phone ringing -- and it's from Sousuke. He's got a special silent ringtone on Kisumi's phone, and his messages go straight to the read folder. Kisumi did pick up the phone once, two months ago, and the conversation went about as well as could be expected.

_"Kisumi? Where did you go?"_

_"I got transferred at work. Please stop calling me. We don't have anything to talk about."_

_"Why? What did I do? I know I shouldn't have said you embarrassed me, I don't-- I don't feel that way. I was just angry that you ignored my -- Kisumi? Are you still there?"_

That was when Kisumi hung up the phone. He _knows_ that Sousuke thought Kisumi came over despite the message Sousuke sent. But he doesn't believe it when Sousuke says he didn't mean it. Anger can warp the mind, but it can give clarity too. Kisumi is certain that Sousuke's mind was perfectly clear that night. The cool contempt in his voice couldn't have been feigned.

Kisumi has always been able to find the silver lining to even the darkest thundercloud. But when it comes to Sousuke, he feels so bitter -- about all the time they spent together, about the feelings Kisumi couldn't keep from growing, about the way Sousuke looked right through him the last time they saw each other. 

He shouldn't be bitter; he _knows_ he brought it all on himself. Sousuke never promised him anything. Sousuke never once held him close -- not even in bed. Sousuke never lied about his feelings for Rin -- not to Kisumi, anyway. He never once pretended that the photo in his wallet was just because Rin's his best friend. Kisumi should have had the good sense to keep it casual. It's his own fault that he fell so hard, so fast. He loves a challenge, especially if it's about changing someone's heart. That's what makes him a good salesman. But in this case there was never any way for him to win, and he knows that. He has no right to be bitter.

He does have a right to be left alone. He was so glad that after he told Sousuke not to call him, Sousuke hasn't called even once. And now this. Frowning, Kisumi clears the missed call notification and opens up his e-mail. He's at the New Grand tonight, a two-block walk away. He pockets his phone.

A strong gust of wind surprises him, pulling at the end of his loosely wound scarf. Dry brown leaves scamper across the cobblestone square, their dry rustle sharp in the cold, clean-smelling air. Winter's come early.

Kisumi pulls his knitted cap out of his coat pocket and pulls it on over his ears. The cap is a cheerful green color that clashes terribly with his hair. Thankfully, no one's around to see him breaking the salaryman dress code in such a flagrant manner. 

"Kisumi."

Kisumi's smile comes unbidden at the sound of that voice. A tall figure in a puffy dark jacket separates from the bus shelter wall and blocks his way.

"Hi," Sousuke says. "I like your hat."

"Where did you come from?"

"Iwatobi," Sousuke says. "It's a small town to the north of here?"

Kisumi sighs. "Sousuke."

"I went to your old workplace," Sousuke mutters. "They told me you transferred to this branch, so I came."

"Why?" He's so breathtakingly beautiful, a traitorous part of Kisumi wants to say, well, why not? But he can't go there; not again.

"Kisumi." Sousuke's takes Kisumi's face in both hands, and his fingers are like ice. How long has he been waiting out here?

It's all Kisumi used to long for: the yearning look in Sousuke's eyes, the way his hands are a little unsteady, the quaver in his voice. But he's made that part of himself -- the part of him in love with Sousuke -- go away a long time ago. He doesn't want this.

But before he can speak, Sousuke lets go of his face to gather him up in his arms, and this too is everything Kisumi ever used to want. Sousuke's powerful arms wrap tight around his shoulders. Sousuke's heartbeat is so strong it echoes in Kisumi's ribcage right through their clothes.

Sousuke's mouth on his, his breath warm and smelling of heaven knows how many vending machine coffees. Sousuke's lips are soft, his tongue sleek and hot, and Kisumi can't help but kiss back. He's wanted to for so long, even if he never wanted it like this. The kisses stir his blood but all he feels is loneliness.

Kisumi pushes Sousuke away. "Stop it!" His breath-cloud collides with the cone of light from a streetlamp above and vanishes.

"Kisumi, I--"

"No!"

"--I'm sorry!" Sousuke says, and Kisumi's so surprised he takes another step back. "I'm sorry for everything. I was stubbornly holding on to feelings that weren't even there any more, and I treated you like crap. I fucked up."

It's not what Kisumi expected at all -- he thought Sousuke would say he wants another chance. He never expected an apology. He didn't think Sousuke had anything to apologize for -- Kisumi was the one at fault, after all. He was the one who hoped for things he had no reason to hope for. He didn't realize he _wanted_ Sousuke to apologize. But turns out that he did.

"Apology accepted," he says. "But don't do that again."

"Do what?"

"Try to kiss me."

Sousuke hangs his head. "I won't."

"How did you get time away from work, anyway? Isn't this a busy time of year for you guys, what with the new year getting close?"

"Oh, I told my dad I wasn't going to get married. That I wouldn't inherit the shop. So we sold it to Gekkeikan last week."

Kisumi gasps. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because I don't want to spend my whole life lying to a nice woman who deserves better." Sousuke meets Kisumi's eyes.

Kisumi doesn't know what to say. He feels guilty, somehow. If it weren't for him showing up when he did-- _No. His feelings for Rin were there long before I ever walked into that damned izakaya bathroom._

"Anyway, turned out my dad was relieved," Sousuke says. "He's sick of the business and wanted to retire, but didn't want to force me into taking over before I was ready to settle down. The buyout money is enough to let him spend the rest of his life fishing for fun."

"What about you?"

"Plenty of work in the rice wine business, and I've got a lifetime of experience."

"They didn't make you sign a noncompetition agreement?"

"My dad had to, yeah. I didn't know the secret family formula yet, though. I just worked in the back."

"So what's next for you, besides work?" Kisumi asks.

Sousuke gazes at him, his face serious. "I don't know. I've been thinking I shouldn't give up on swimming because of one old injury."

_So he's going to chase Rin after all._

"I won't ever swim competitively again," Sousuke continues. "But I could join a hobby club."

Kisumi kicks himself for feeling relieved that no, Sousuke isn't going after Rin. It makes no difference. "Yeah, I was thinking about joining my neighborhood association basketball team," he says. "I spend so much time at work I'll turn into a lump if I don't move around once in a while."

"It was nice," Sousuke says. "Kissing you."

"Sousuke, no." _Why not?_

"I know. I'm just saying, it was nice. It's too bad we didn't do more of it, before."

 _We didn't do_ any _of it, you stubborn twit._ Even after all that bitterness and pain, he's weaker to Sousuke than he thought. "You never know. Maybe if we had, you'd be sick of it by now," he says.

"Hey, you're the one who got away, in the end," Sousuke says. "So I guess I'll never know."

"I guess not," Kisumi says, nodding. He needs to leave before he gives in to temptation. "Well, don't be a stranger."

"Bye, Kisumi."

Kisumi sets off towards the hotel, but every step he takes falls heavier than the one before. He wants to turn around and have one last look at Sousuke. His face still smarts from the scrape of Sousuke's unshaven cheek.

_You're the one who got away._

Sousuke said that just now, didn't he? Kisumi recalls a damp December afternoon at Sousuke's house.

_"Do you have a person like that? The one who got away, I mean."_

_"I hope I never do. Living with such a regret doesn't sound like fun."_

It hasn't been fun, living with it, but Kisumi's already made his peace with it. He doesn't want Sousuke to have that kind of regret, but Sousuke's happiness is not his responsibility. If Sousuke doesn't want to regret letting Kisumi go, all he has to do is stop him.

Sousuke's arms envelop him from behind.

"Kisumi," Sousuke says into his hair. "I don't want you to go."

Kisumi takes a deep, deep breath and tries not to be too obvious about sinking back into Sousuke's familiar warmth. Sousuke is shielding him from the wind, too. It's a practical use for a tall, muscular boyfriend that has not occurred to Kisumi before.

He says four words:

"Then come with me."

The End


End file.
